


leave it to the breeze

by spacs



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Pining, Sexual Content, broken relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 12:35:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9896714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacs/pseuds/spacs
Summary: Words were absent from their evening. Eyes said things that words couldn’t capture and despite the temporary fulfillment, he knew this wouldn’t be enough – this wouldn’t last.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr prompt from anonymous  
> " don't talk just kiss me "

“Prompto, I’ll be fine,” Ignis assures him.

It’s been over a year since Noctis was taken by the Crystal. Ignis finally opened his eyes nine months ago, his blindness no longer in question. Daemons prowled at all corners as power began to fail in rural areas. Together, he and Ignis began to grow a relief effort, shepherding citizens to safer locations during the daylight and offering protection as night fell. The days have grown shorter and the night’s longer – daylight lasts less than three hours and the darkness grips the world by the throat for the remaining time. Prompto hasn’t slept properly in months and he knows that Ignis sometimes goes days without as much as a nap. How can he, in good conscience, leave?

“Not yet, Iggy,” he declines.

Another year passes. The sun stopped rising six months ago. Prompto never thought he could grow so tired of looking at the stars.

“I know you want to find him,” Ignis murmurs over dinner. “ _Go_ , Prompto,” he urges, but keeps his head down, tilted towards his plate.

Prompto toyed with his food, contemplating Ignis’ words. Two years had gone by without a word from Gladio. Iris had been their connection to their friend, calling or texting when he visited or contacted her. She was the only reason that they knew he was even _alive_ beyond the simple fact that he was Gladiolus Amicitia and he was not easily felled. He and Prompto had left things… unsaid, and Prompto had been aching for him. Often he found himself with his thumb hovering over Gladio’s number, trying to find the courage to just _call_.

“I can’t,” he said, finally. Before, the desire to protect and aid Ignis had been forefront in his mind before the thought of chasing after a man that might not want him anymore. Ignis was moving around on his own, cooking almost as well as he had before Altissia, and, despite Prompto’s protests, was learning to navigate his way through a battle once more. Seldom did he use a cane anymore and, sometimes, when he directed his attention to Prompto it felt like he could see.

Now whole-bodied fear absorbed him at the thought, and he clenched his hands into fists, abandoning his meal.

“As you wish.” Ignis doesn’t argue, instead offering an understanding, sad smile.

Five months go by before Ignis speaks of it again. Prompto and Ignis are returning to Hammerhead from Lestallum in a truck that Cindy was going to kill them for running down. The brights are blaring, warding off daemons in their forward path.

“I’ve heard from Gladio,” Ignis says casually.

Prompto tries not to run the truck off the road.

“He’s been in Galdin Quay with Cor,” he continued, tone still nonchalant. “The power is nearing failure and he’s been assigned to a defensive position as the relief effort makes their way down to the coast.”

The words _why did he call you_ stick to the roof of Prompto’s mouth as he listens. The nagging, cynical voice in his head taunts him with thoughts of _you’re not good enough_ and _he doesn’t trust you anymore_. The barcode on his wrist burns.

“It’s time, Prompto.” It isn’t a question this time. Ignis is sending him away.

He gets his reassignment to Galdin Quay two days after their return to Hammerhead. Ignis can’t see him, but he frowns and glares anyway. Any attempt at opening up a discussion is met with curt, professional answers. Ignis is the one that was put in charge of this base and Prompto has no legitimate reason to argue with his reassignment. But when Prompto is preparing to leave, Ignis puts a hand on his shoulder in comfort and gives him words of encouragement that Prompto tries to take to heart.

As he rounds the bend and can see the docks come into view, his heart leaps into his throat. He pulls off to the side of the road, staring down at the dim lights of Galdin Quay, knowing what – who – is waiting. He finds himself wondering if _Gladio_ knows that he is the one that’s been reassigned and not Ignis.

Reluctantly, he drives the remaining distance. He parks and makes his way slowly over the docks. The waves crash quietly against the posts holding the walkway above the water and Prompto forgot how much he loved the smell of the salty hair. He sees Cor first, conversing with a woman that is carrying more guns than Prompto saw as strictly necessary, even in this eternal night.

He can’t bring himself to ask where Gladio is as Cor shows him the station and explains that they’re hoping to have the docks cleared within the next two days. But Cor tells him where Gladio is anyway, leaving Prompto to wonder if he knows about the nature of their relationship – or at least what it used to be. “He’s being transferred to Lestallum tomorrow, Prompto,” Cor told him. “He’s taking the first round of citizens and sending a replacement.”

Prompto stood outside of the door Cor told him was Gladio’s quarters. His arms felt like lead, hanging uselessly at his sides, too nervous to knock. His throat felt tight and his eyes were impossibly dry, even as he blinked furiously. Gladio was on the other side of this door. It was a full three minutes before Prompto made a decision, turning on heel to request a separate room. With any luck Gladio would leave in the morning, never knowing Prompto had been here.

Luck had never quite been on his side, however. Just as he took a step away from the door it flew open with startling force. He froze, tensing, and his shoulders shot up to his ears, as if a lack of movement would render him invisible.

“Prompto.”

He hissed in a breath through his teeth. That _voice_. Tantalizingly deep and smoky with a tone that clearly meant he definitely did _not_ know that Prompto would be here. Too afraid to turn around to face the other man, Prompto stayed rooted to his spot and his fingers curled.

“Ignis said you were coming tomorrow.”

That explained so much. He’d been rushed down to Galdin Quay and Ignis was rigid on his schedule. And Gladio was leaving for Lestallum in the morning – most likely by request than coincidence. Prompto let his shoulders fall and he slowly turned to face the older man. He was still as ruggedly handsome as the last time Prompto saw him, and he was certain that his muscles were somehow even more defined, the tank he wore doing him plenty of favors. His hair was longer at the sides and he had it pulled halfway back into a ponytail and it looked as if he’d stopped putting too much effort into shaving.

They looked each other over, eyes sweeping over one another’s face and down the length of their body. Prompto self-consciously wrapped his fingers over his wrist to cover the code. Gladio let out a deep sigh and tentatively stepped back into his room, moving to the side and gesturing for Prompto to follow. He hesitated, his lips set into an uncertain frown as he leveled his gaze with Gladio’s who gave him a small, apologetic smile. It overwhelmed Prompto with that nagging feeling of longing. They were nearing three years of separation and he’d thought of what this moment would be like every day.

At last, he followed Gladio into the room, keeping his back to the other man as the door closed behind them. There was a stiff silence before Gladio started, “Prompto—”

“Stop.”

A beat. “What?”

Prompto spun around, puffing his chest out and tilting his head up at Gladio, who’d pressed himself against the door. He connected their eyes, feigning a confidence that he didn’t fully feel. Gladio’s eyes darted between his, brows drawn in as they searched for an answer wordlessly. Prompto could feel his lips trembling with too many emotions to sift through – relief, anger, love, rage.

“Don’t talk. Just kiss me.”

For one breath of a moment Gladio didn’t move, the words taking that mere second to sink in. Then in a swift movement, he surged away from the door and crashed his lips against Prompto’s. In turn, Prompto threw his arms around the taller man’s shoulders, pulling himself up to meet Gladio’s urgency with his own. Gladio’s hands pressed into his back, supporting the blonde against his chest as he pulled him up into his embrace, Prompto’s toes just brushing the floor.

Prompto opened his mouth for Gladio’s tongue, twisting one hand in dark hair and the other grasped the strap of Gladio’s tank. He allowed himself to be walked backwards into the room, Gladio’s fingers reaching under the hem of Prompto’s shirt at the small of his back. He’d long since stopped flinching whenever his shirt was pulled at and he let their mouths disconnect as it was ripped over his head unceremoniously. Prompto’s fingers dug into Gladio’s shoulders as he fell back onto the bed, pulling the larger man back to him quickly to kiss him once more, a moan escaping into Gladio’s mouth.

Gladio pressed him into the sheets, bracing himself with his elbows next to Prompto’s head as he greedily swept each of Prompto’s groans away with his tongue. Prompto dragged his hands down Gladio’s sides to grab at the clothing that separated their chests and there was a hum in the back of the other man’s throat as his dull fingernails teased the muscle of Gladio’s abdomen. He could feel the raised scar on the other man’s broad chest as he moved upwards, bringing the clothing with him. Gladio moaned softly, leaning their foreheads together as his shirt was drawn over his head.

“Prompto,” he murmured, his large hand holding Prompto’s cheek.

“Don’t,” Prompto shook his head, pulling their mouths back together.

From there, words were absent from their evening. They eventually lost all clothing, tangled up in one another and Prompto felt his ache alleviating slowly as their time together progressed. It wasn’t just the physical intimacy that satisfied him, but the way Gladio held him and watched him as he came apart under the other man’s care. Eyes said things that words couldn’t capture and despite the temporary fulfillment, he knew this wouldn’t be enough – this wouldn’t last.

He didn’t have to ask if Gladio would still leave in the morning. He knew the answer.

Still, the aftermath was sweet and almost domestic as they laid together, basking in the slowly fading pleasure of completion. Gladio pulled Prompto against his chest, arms draped around him as he pushed his fingers through blond hair, dropping his head to kiss Prompto’s shoulder. Despite himself, Prompto found himself humming a tune to a song he only half remembered, his fingers running over the skin at the top of Gladio’s thigh. When another kiss was pressed against his shoulder, he turned his head up to look back at the other man. His amber eyes were soft and still hazy from sex, but honest in the way Prompto had always loved. He tilted his chin up in an invitation that Gladio accepted, pressing their lips together with a sweetness that made Prompto’s stomach turn.

“I missed you,” he admitted, hiding his face underneath Gladio’s chin.

Fingertips stroked Prompto’s exposed neck, Gladio’s large arm extended over his chest, pulling Prompto close with a hand resting over his heart. The other man buried his face into Prompto’s hair and let out a shaky sigh. “I thought about you every day,” he whispered back, his voice almost sounding shamed.

They fell asleep holding each other. Prompto slept soundly, the best sleep he’d gotten in years. And when he woke, Gladio was no longer next to him. He looked bitterly around the room as he wiped the sleep from his eyes, noticing Gladio left behind his jacket, a small note pinned to the collar. Feeling sore, Prompto slid out of bed and padded over to pluck the paper from the jacket, crinkling it in his hands as he read.

_keep the jacket, I always liked you in it. I’m sorry, prompto._ There was another line that had been crossed through beyond legibility. _I love you_.

Prompto balled the paper in one hand, the other going up to press against his lips as he stifled the overwhelming sadness that crashed over him. He looked down at his fist, the yellow of the paper slipping through his fingers. Carefully he folded the messed paper into a small piece, sliding it into the left pocket of the leather jacket.

He ignored a call from Ignis later in the day, his hands pushed into the pockets of Gladio’s jacket as he tried to pretend it didn’t still smell like the other man. He ferried supplies to trucks as Cor’s first line of defense guarded against the daemons threatening to infiltrate the base. He watched over the remaining citizens when the lights went down, alert and on the defensive as he listened to the sounds of daemons outside while engineers worked to bring the lights back on.

The truck from Lestallum arrived and Gladio was no longer the driver. Prompto bit down on the inside of his cheek at his disappointment. Part of his had hoped that he would shirk his reassignment and come back – foolish.

His hand closed over the note in the pocket.

**Author's Note:**

> So. I went angst for the first time with promptio. I’ve been slowly developing this post-Altissia relationship with Prompto and Gladio – basically what happens to their established relationship during those chapters and the years that follow while Noctis is stuck in the Crystal. After Episode Gladio releases in March, I’m going to post something I’ve been working on for them that explores that idea. This prompt gave me another little moment in this timeline that will be worked into the fic that I am writing that takes place during the 10 year gap. Expect that in about a month.


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